by Jim English
You nod, fully understanding what he means, and follow him back up the stairs. As a brilliant white blast fills the sky, you and Gabe are naked and wrapped in each other’s arms.
It’s too bad you had to die—but it’s hard to think of a better way to go!
THE END
You head toward the museum but keep your eyes peeled for any sign of the awful drag queen. You’re not sure who she was, but you hope you’ll never have to see her again.
After five minutes of walking, you reach the post office. But you’re not sure you remember the rest of the sheriff’s directions. Was it a right at the post office and then a left at the bookstore? A left at the post office and a right at the coffee shop? Or what?
* * *
If you make a right at the post office, a left at the coffee shop, and a right at the bookstore, turn to this page.
If you make a left at the post office, a right at the coffee shop, and a right at the bookstore, turn to this page.
If you make a left at the post office, a left at the coffee shop, and a left at the bookstore, turn to this page.
If you know you’ll never remember the directions—and decide to head to the beach, after all—turn to this page.
You’re about halfway through The Meat Rack when you encounter an extremely hot guy who’s also walking toward Cherry Grove. “Why, hello,” he says to Jose. “I think we were both on the same ferryboat this morning. I’m Troy.”
“I remember seeing you,” Jose says, and his eyes drift down to the considerable bulge in Troy’s bathing suit. “I never forget a face.”
They both shake hands and proceed to chat like you’re not even there.
“I hate to interrupt,” you tell them, “but we need to get to Cherry Grove.”
“I’m sure there’s time for a little nature walk,” Troy says, and he gently strokes Jose’s tight bubble butt. “The dunes have such spectacular wildlife.”
Jose turns to you, his eyes pleading. This is the kind of opportunity he lives for.
“No way,” you tell him. “We have to go.”
“I’ll just be five minutes,” Jose says. “Wait for me, please, okay?”
He doesn’t even wait for your answer—they just disappear into the bushes, and you know it won’t be long before Jose starts shrieking with pleasure.
* * *
If you wait for Jose and Troy to finish, turn to this page.
If you head for Cherry Grove on your own, turn to this page.
“The president will never listen to us,” you tell Lance. “We have to get to the lighthouse.”
“I’ll give you a weapon to help you along,” Cosmo says. He leads you back to the museum, where he unlocks the door to an old vault. “These are two of my most valuable artifacts,” he says, and then removes a pair of boots and a small glass bottle.
Lance picks up the boots. “What are these?” he asks.
“The Prada Boots of Speed,” Cosmo says gravely. “With this incredibly stylish footwear, you can outrun all of Champagne Toast’s evil minions.”
“And this?” you ask, picking up the bottle.
“A bottle of Brut, the bane of all fashion-conscious beings,” Cosmo says. “This particular bottle was blessed by Bette Midler, which amplifies its power by five hundred percent. If you spray it on Champagne Toast, you can defeat her.”
* * *
Turn to this page.
Ten minutes later, you’re back in the sheriff’s office, locked in a prison cell with your stall buddy. He’s a pudgy fifty-something-year-old man with a bad combover, a farmer’s tan, and the first polo shirt you’ve seen in The Pines all day. His name is Alfred, and he lives in the suburbs of New Jersey with his wife and three children. He keeps photographs of his family in his wallet, and he shows them to you. He weeps copiously.
You ignore most of what he’s saying and wait impatiently for Jose to come bail you out. But that’s assuming Jose knows you’re here—which seems unlikely. And then, all of a sudden, the sheriff hears a loud scream from outside. He peers out the window and exclaims, “Son of a bitch! There’s zombies storming the nightclub!”
He runs out with his rifle, and then—moments later—you hear the sheriff utter a strangled cry for help.
With a sinking feeling, you realize that you and your stall buddy will remain locked behind bars for a long, long time.
THE END
The drag queens have a wild and deranged look in their eyes—like they’re tripping on Special K, only much worse. They’re snarling and snapping like rabid dogs. One of them knocks over a cabana boy and starts clawing his chest with her press-on nails. The poor twink screams in terror.
“Get to the ferryboat!” he shouts. “It’s your only hope for escape!”
Then one of the trannies starts shuffling in your direction. She’s dressed like a blonde Cher, with three-inch stiletto heels, and she slips and stumbles over the sand.
“Come on,” you tell Jose, “we better get to that ferry!”
“Are you kidding?” Jose asks. “All my new vacation clothes are back at the inn. And my new hair dryer! I’m not giving them up because of some freaky queens.”
You suppose Jose has a good point—you’ve got some new Prada sandals back at the inn, and it’s not like these zombies are terribly fast. Besides, by the time you get back to your room, maybe this whole situation will be under control.
* * *
If you head for the ferryboat immediately, turn to this page.
If you go back to the inn for your belongings, turn to this page.
With just five minutes left to save Fire Island, you know there’s no time to mess around. You lunge toward Champagne Toast, reaching for her wig, but she deftly sidesteps you.
“That was not very smart,” she says.
She approaches a rope that extends straight out the window. Jose must be tied to the end of it! With a single swipe of her razor-sharp press-on nail, the rope severs in two—and you can hear your best friend screaming all the way down to the ground.
“No!” you shout, but it’s too late. You don’t even fight back as Champagne Toast charges forward. Your life is over—but maybe, if the world is lucky, Lance can find a way to save Fire Island.
THE END
Two hours later, you’re back in the safety of your Manhattan apartment, sipping raspberry iced tea and watching CNN’s live coverage of the Fire Island zombie epidemic. “The present zombie-to-human ratio is five to one,” the news anchor explains, “and it’s getting worse.”
The broadcast cuts to an aerial shot of the beach, where dozens of drag queens are shuffling aimlessly in search of human victims. The camera moves in for a close-up on one of them—a cute guy dressed in nothing but a bright blue Speedo. “Marrrrrryyyyyyyy,” he groans.
With a pang of remorse, you realize that Jose has become a member of the living dead! If only you could have saved him!
THE END
“Of course, Brut isn’t the only way to destroy Champagne Toast,” Cosmo explains. “If you can pull off her wig, she’ll die of embarrassment. But that’s assuming she’ll let you get close enough, and she’s too clever to let that happen.”
“Thanks for the tip,” you tell him.
“Unfortunately, I can only let you have one of the artifacts,” he says. “So you will need to choose between the Prada Boots of Speed or the bottle of Brut blessed by Bette.”
* * *
If you choose the Prada Boots of Speed, turn to this page.
If you want the bottle of Brut, turn to this page.
“That dirty little bitch,” you mutter. You’ve never been so angry with Jose in your life. But you know that if you leave him in the woods, he’ll never find his way back to safety.
So instead, you just pace around the forest, on the lookout for zombie drag queens. The surrounding wilderness is completely still.
Five minutes pass … then ten … then fifteen.
“Hurry up, Jose!” you shout into the bushes. �
�You’re supposed to be giving him head, not a full fucking body massage!”
In response, you hear a sudden, horrifying, blood-curdling scream!
And then—just as quickly—the woods are silent again.
Part of you wants to rush into the woods to help Jose—but another part of you recognizes that he’s probably already dead. And the dirty little bitch deserves to be dead, especially since you told him not to go in the bushes.
* * *
If you try to rescue Jose, turn to this page.
If you head to Cherry Grove alone, turn to this page.
“All right, you win,” you tell the captain. “Throw me the rope.”
A few moments later, you’re on deck, and the captain is rubbing you down with a dry towel. His pudgy little hands seem determined to touch every inch of your body—particularly the space between your thighs. “I’ve hauled some beautiful fish from this ocean before,” he says, “but you’re my best catch yet. Should I fix you a drink before the rogering begins?”
“Better make it a double,” you tell him.
* * *
Turn to this page.
You slip off your bathing suit and use it to wipe the milky white ooze from the tranny’s fingertips. Almost immediately, the ooze burns several large holes through the fabric, and you’re left holding a handful of tattered rags.
“Damn it!” you exclaim. “That was Versace!”
You’re not sure the drag queen hears you—there’s a strange, wild look in her eyes. All of a sudden, she swings her hand, and her press-on nails leave deep red scratches across your neck. They’re like claws!
“Bitch, stop that!” you shout. “I’m trying to help you!”
The other drag queens all have the same scary, deranged look in their eyes. They’re snarling and snapping like rabid dogs, like they’re ready to tear you to pieces.
Just then, Jose and the lifeguard emerge from the sand dune. “Oh, there you are, sweetie,” Jose exclaims, and his gaze immediately drops to your waist. “I see we’ve decided to go au naturel. Very nice! But you might consider waxing.”
* * *
Turn to this page.
Lance unlocks your handcuffs, and together you fit the anti-zombie lens over the light beam. Then, after Lance powers up the generator, you see a series of small explosions all over the island! Zombies everywhere are turning to dust!
“We did it!” Lance exclaims, and he’s so excited, he can’t help but give you a kiss.
“Never mind that right now,” you tell him. “Call the president before those missiles are launched!”
While Lance dials the White House on his cell phone, you go over to the window and call down to Jose. “Hang on!” you tell him. “I’m going to pull you up!”
You have no trouble hoisting Jose back into the lighthouse, and he immediately throws his arms around your waist. “You saved my life!” he exclaims. “I thought I was going to die!”
Lance hangs up his cell phone. “The president has stopped the missiles!” he says. “We’ve saved Fire Island!”
* * *
Turn to this page.
These zombies are so slow, you probably have enough time to pack your clothes, mix a few cocktails, and even take a nap. “All right,” you tell Jose, “let’s go back to the inn.”
While Jose packs your things, you flip on the television and watch a live news broadcast; Geraldo Rivera is standing on the shore of Fire Island, addressing the camera: “If you are watching this broadcast from Fire Island, you are currently in grave danger. Fire Island is in a state of emergency. The zombie population is doubling every ten minutes. All humans must evacuate the island immediately!”
You flip off the television, knowing that you’ve already heard enough. “This is worse than I thought,” you tell Jose. “Let’s go.”
You grab your suitcases, hurry down the hall, and head downstairs to the lobby.
* * *
Turn to this page.
You explain that the drag queens are mutating into zombies. “Somebody has to do something!”
“Let me take care of this,” the lifeguard says.
He marches up to a blonde Cher look-alike with broad hips and three-inch stiletto heels. “Listen, sister—” he starts, but the queen strikes out with her razor-sharp press-on nails, slashing him across the chest. Another queen knocks over a cabana boy and strangles him with her boa.
“Run!” the dying lifeguard shouts. “It’s your only hope for survival!”
You hurry back to your beach blanket, and Jose agrees to let you wear his shorts. “I don’t mind running around in my Speedo,” he shrugs. “With everyone making such a fuss about these zombies, I have to do something to get noticed.”
* * *
Turn to this page.
“I’ll take the blue pill,” you tell Jake. “You take the red one.”
You both swallow your tablets and wait. After a few moments, Jake says, “It’s funny, but I don’t feel anything.”
You wish you could say the same—but when you look down at your bathing suit, you realize you have an enormous erection. You must have taken the wrong pill!
Jake notices the bulge in your pants and sidles up beside you. “Looks like you’ve reconsidered my offer,” he says. “Wanna head upstairs to my bedroom?”
You can’t help yourself. You’re powerless. You’re so horny, you’d even jump into bed with a woman right now.
“Lead the way,” you tell him. “Just hurry!”
* * *
Turn to this page.
You make it to the lighthouse with just eight minutes to spare. It’s a beautiful building that rises more than sixty feet straight into the air—and something about it reminds you of this well-hung Mexican boy you met on a spring break in Cancun. But there’s no time to reminisce just now.
“Look!” Lance exclaims, pointing to the sky.
You see that a rope has been tied to the top of the lighthouse—and something is dangling from the end of it. But then you realize it’s not something—it’s someone! The person is flailing his arms and legs, and he’s naked except for a bright blue Speedo!
“Jose!” you exclaim.
Your best friend looks down in terror. “Don’t come up here!” he shouts. “That evil bitch says that if you come near me, she’s going to cut the rope!”
Suddenly, Champagne Toast appears at the top of the lighthouse. “You’re goddamn right I will!” she exclaims. “Stay away, bitches, or the pretty Chelsea queen goes splat!”
* * *
Turn to this page.
You veer off the main trail and follow the path that Troy and Jose used. After a few steps, you come across Jose’s bright blue Speedo.
You take a few more steps and find his sandals.
Then you take a few more steps and discover the torn wrapper of a Trojan condom.
“Jose?” you call out. “Are you okay?”
You pick up the condom wrapper, hoping it will offer some clues—and then you hear a horrible grating voice from behind the bushes: “You shouldn’t touch that, Marrrrrrrry. You don’t knowwww where it’s beeeeeennnnnnnn!”
Suddenly, a figure leaps out of the bushes, knocking you to the ground. It’s Troy, and the wild, maniacal look in his eyes makes you realize he’s one of them.
“No!” you shout, but it’s too late—his teeth are already sinking into your flesh, and you can feel the deadly zombie venom coursing through your bloodstream.
Within minutes, you’ll be one of them, too.
THE END
Jake is gone for ten minutes, and then you hear his footsteps returning to the bedroom. “Is everything all right?” you ask.
When he appears in the doorway, he’s clad in a white Vera Wang gown—and a platinum blonde wig!
“I’m just finnnnnnne,” he groans, and then he lunges toward the bed.
His razor-sharp nails slice open the mattress, and water sprays out in a geyser. Jake holds you down, submerging you in the sudden flood
and cutting off your oxygen.
For a fleeting moment, you entertain the hope that this is just his idea of a kinky thrill. You’ve heard of men who asphyxiate themselves right before orgasm. Maybe Jake is just introducing you to his fetish.
But who are you kidding?
He’s a zombie, and you, unfortunately, are dead.
THE END
“I’ll take the Brut,” you tell Cosmo. “Anything consecrated by Bette Midler is bound to work wonders!”
Cosmo hands you the bottle and wishes you luck. “We’re all counting on you,” he says. “I’d hate to miss the end of this Golden Girls marathon.”
As soon as you and Lance leave the museum, you realize you’re in danger! The road has been completely barricaded by zombies!
“Uh oh,” Lance says. “I think we’ll need to use that Brut sooner than we expected.”
On the north end of the road, a dozen zombies are scattered around. There are too many for you to dodge, but by spritzing the Brut here and there, you might make it past them—and still have enough left to destroy Champagne Toast.
On the south end of the road, a dozen zombies are clustered in a large circle. You could lob the bottle of Brut like a grenade and destroy all of them in one fell swoop—but then God only knows what you’ll use to destroy their leader.
